Things I love about Kigali (Part 2)

Its been a bit since I wrote part one of this post. So, given how work-oriented and hectic the past two weeks have been, instead of detailing that, Im adding another installment to the list. This is going to be all for this week. I know it is a short one. But I had quite a bit of trouble finding service sufficient to post this up to the blog (hence the few and not-well-placed pictures, sorry!). But I have two major hiking trips coming up in the next two weekends and a large lecture at the end of next week. So I promise something a bit more substantial soon.

The Forced Creativity and Planning:

I make most things from scratch now. Bread, pretzels, granola, hummus…. almost anything that is not made here in this country. Imports are rare. Not to mention EXPENSIVE.

My housemate and I hosted a dinner party two weeks ago. We made fresh potato gnocchi with spuds from the market, ricotta gnocchi after learning to make that type of cheese ourself, alongside fresh tomato sauce and a fresh butternut squash sauce. Fresh bread, hummus, white chocolate cheesecake with rhubarb compote, chocolate cake, and a huge salad to compliment. We have two burners on our stove that work. Our oven door doesn’t close. Our kettle no longer boils water consistently. And the food was fabulous.

As exhausting as every day can be, things like planning 9 trips to different markets to get all the proper ingredients for a dinner party or packing your mobile wifi router for power cuts at work or even just navigating medical care have made me so much more resilient, creative, and prepared. I think there is an adaptability that people have to have here that I know I will have to learn to not expect from others as much when I get home. A violent rainstorm pushes a meeting three hours? Okay. The power cuts while im in the shower. Twice in one morning. That’s life. I love how much it has broken down my high-strung tendencies. And while I do often get tired, I really love who living here forces me to be in that respect.

How Much I Laugh:

Living in Kigali has really taught me how to laugh – at myself, at random situations, at the everyday little things that just make zero sense but exist anyway. I laugh to the point of not being able to breathe almost every day. That is in part thanks to my housemates who love highlighting the absurd. When little phrases from interactions where we have completely made fools of ourselves become tag-lines for jokes throughout the day, it can honestly be difficult to stay on my feet. I am honestly worried that I will be back in the US in a few months, hear what should be a perfectly innocuous phrase, and end up on the floor in a puddle of my own laughter.

Things that Make 0 Sense

Why are Frulep and New Frulep next to each other? Are they the same store? If so, why do you have to pay in one before you can enter the other?
What do you do when your moto driver hits a bump and you clunk your helmeted head into his? With this unspoken faux pax ever be acknowledged? (Answer, you write a poem about it, but that’s besides the point).
Does the place that advertises orange sweet potatoes on its street sign actually sell orange sweet potatoes?
Why is one of the bus companies’ slogans #ArriveAlive?
Why do my visa, residence card, and inter-state pass each list a different occupation for me?
Why do you go through security checkpoints at only half of the entrances in most shopping places?
Has anyone ever ordered the “Fried Flog Legs” at the Niyangarama truck stop? (yes, the typo is on the actual menu sign)
Does MTN only provide one ringtone or does everyone just choose to use the same one?
Why does the bread taste so sweet and have no substance? All the ingredients for good bread are readily available.
Do lines exist, or did I wait at MTN for an hour because I didn’t just push to the front of the queue?
How many different things are meant by the word “Umva”?
What is the difference between a “Worship Experience” and a “Church Service”?
Why is KG 550 actually small chunks of 6 different roads paved together into one?
In that vein, why are roads of similar number nowhere near each other?

I know these types of little things must exist everywhere. I need to find some once I head back home because its the small laughs that really keep me chipper.

Freedom of Mobility:

Sorry. I cannot lie. Zipping around the city at high speed in the sunshine on the back of a motorcycle is addicting. Moto taxis are dangerous. I almost died the other day on one and am now trying to cut back. (We swerved to miss a car and the bike was at about a 60-degree angle from vertical. Really not fun). But the city, and the country as a broader extension with the bus system, are so accessible. You can get anywhere at almost anytime. Rwanda is also one of the safest countries in the world. I promise I am not being naive when I say that. It certainly is related to the military presence on the streets. But, very rarely, do I (or most people I know) have to actively consider whether or not they can walk through a specific area of the city alone. Pickpocketing is definitely present. But that is present anywhere. In all honestly, I love that I can travel with confidence and do not look forward to giving up that privilege.